Fishbowler

I make art in strange places and blog about it.

Tag Archives: journal

What Has Sorg Learned Since His Personal “End of the World”?

I can’t write gems every day. Blogging, as I am now, with no internet connection at home, well it puts me in a mindset more slow, like a 70’s guy with bushy sideburns. I’m not up-to-the-minute like I used to be. I must admit, though, once I head toward home or somewhere else with no wifi connection, it’s in my mind, thinking of the last post I put out there.

There’s this old way of doing things, as far as promotion and publicity goes, of just saying everything as positively about your product as possible.

Well, social media hit the world like a Mack truck in the face, and all that changed. Now it’s up to the minute and it’s all opinion all the time. People are free to share their negative experiences in relation to a company or person and it’s all a bit more open. Companies have had to adapt.

So for me to eject myself from this world, I’m assuming people that have followed me for awhile must be wondering what I’ve learned.

Life is the same. I’ve learned that my emotions are more even keeled or at least a bit slower to develop compared to my facebooking days. As far as the latest news about politics, etc.. I have to ask you: do you really think what you’re reading on your newsfeed is NEWS?

Links from Huffington Post, New York Times, Fox News, these are NEWS? These are reality? You’re an informed American?

I’m alive. I’m clear-headed and I’m dealing with my personal position in this world. I’m not at all happy about the state of this country’s political landscape, but ya know, I know one thing, it’s theatre. It’s a joke and it pisses me off to think that people are so spoon fed.

This is not right, the way this country (and the world) is being run. Your emotions are being toyed with and NOTHING is being accomplished.

I was cranky on that last post, yesterday’s, but today I’m not. I’m in a mood to tell you how I see it and I want you to enlighten yourself and QUIT listening to your stupid friends and their stupid links on Facebook. AT LEAST go read a story from your “enemy”, assuming you’re one of those Liberal/Conservative types (as if the world is so polarized and simple.)

Go live a real life.

Go struggle.

Go make something.

Go be disappointed.

Sleep it off,

start over.

Each day is tribulation and we need our strength tested. Pay attention to your diet and intake and realize you’re grumpy when you’re hungry, you’re antsy when you’re horny and when you’re tired, go to sleep; don’t make any decisions at that moment.

I hope something here has connected with you because I experiment with the writing of these blog posts and I subscribe to this last bit of wisdom:

Don’t be afraid to be wrong.

This is not the most clearly constructed blog post, but fuckit; I’m not editing it. It turned all political, but I guess I want you to know that our constitution and the creation of this government in the late 1700’s was brilliant and humane. Tyranny-as we seem to have now-was expected by these men of power way back then. They accounted for it. They actually unified singular, autonomous states into a singular American federation, all the while, considering the ramifications of the possibilities of a tyrannical government.

I don’t think they fully accounted for the power of corporate greed.

It was written right into the Constitution that, if WE THE PEOPLE are not happy with our government, we’re the boss and we are able to abolish it and start over. I think it’s time to do this.

It’s time to eject corporatism, state-socialism, a.k.a. Fascism from our United States governmental rule.

That’s what I’m thinking about these days. Facebook-you’ve shown me enough. Obama, I’ve learned that your executive orders are not out of line in comparison to previous Presidents, but I also know that your policies differ, only on the surface, from those of George W. Bush and other Presidents. I understand that Democrat/Republican are simple costumes used for TV appearances.

Obama and friends, I want to take much of your power away from you because I’m your boss. If I’m uninformed about my own powers, that’s my fault.

Quite simply, the unification of all governmental bodies into ONE government ONLY benefits the rulers and don’t kid yourself, the corporations truly run the show.

Our rulers have OBVIOUSLY divorced themselves from nature and all that runs perfectly. Hello? Wind power? Solar? Mass Transit? Electric cars?

We cannot assume that the government of this country is in any position to offer us a sustainable “social safety net”. Look to your friends and family if you’re searching for such. And fer godssakes, go learn something about the Constitution!

“I Can Break Dance When the Spirit Moves Me” Goldfield Journal #18

I got pulled over today for not having my headlights turned on in the Trans Am. It was 2 in the afternoon. Wide open stretches inspire a kind of roadway delirium and the powers that be insist we make our car’s presence known out here to divert disaster. I have to go to court now. My license is good. Thank Buddha for that. They just want to know this car is registered and insured. I must present proof of that.

Michael Mark is convinced that the sheriff’s department is after him. It seems to be true. The Trans Am is his and it stands out.

Changing the subject, um, let’s see, oh, I dunno, the end of the world?

As of late, the government has started to assert itself, from what I’m gathering. The Feds are cracking down on California and its legalized marijuana. I’m not even the biggest fan of legalizing it, but it seems like a war of the body building variety.

You know how there’s weight lifting competition and then there’s body building? One is more aligned with aesthetics while weight lifting wins with numbers, statistics. What we’re seeing in California, with federal bureaucracy backing the State’s government into a corner, it’s the show of power that the federal government is seeing most valuable in this kind of skirmish. They want to use this as a show of force; they flex for their national audience.

Very recently, neo-hippies have taken over Wall Street, in demonstration, and there were similar kind of strong arm moves by policing forces against protestors. The hierarchy is trying to remind us that they are more powerful than we. A state is nothing, federal is everything. They’re drawing clear distinctions for anyone paying attention. Aldus Huxley saw it coming eighty years ago.

I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t know me. This government does not know me. They are not on my side and they are not working at their best to help me. They can’t even see me. The government is too wasteful here  in the United States and it has lost its purpose of being.

Like backtracking during that other hypothetical line of talk “..but I’m not racist,” this is the point where I say, “…but I’m patriotic, I love America.” I do love America. I was prom king, but these people who historically were there to be looked at as ones who could save us, well, those days are long gone. We’re smarter than the sluggish sassy federal monster putting on this show with its fat lined pockets.

What are we doing to make change ourselves? What am I doing? How am I a role model? I’m not a parent. I don’t teach classes, much, anyway.. My point is this: I’m not in a position of authority or enlarging circles of knowledge. What I DO hope to pass along in a mindset of D-I-Y in what we do on this earth. We can do it ourselves. To make one’s way and look at all the indulgences of America that we let ourselves whore out to. It’s an old concept of non-capitalism or non-materialism I’m drooling about this particular minute, but it rings solid. Anything we assume to be ‘me’ is a practice. We practice consumerism or we don’t.

Never ding a dead horse, never ring the death bell. I like big butts and I cannot lie.

Anyway, what if the direction of our energy in this country were steered toward strengthening our own powers, our creative instincts-no more telling people we’re “not an artist.” What if our artistic ideation was funneled better and became seen as more valuable than a widescreen? I have ideas and that is why I’m important.

My point is all knowledge, all style, all trends rely on the artistic display of those ideas-FIRST! ..hot and bold, that first pushed new vibrations to fellow beings.

We are the boss here. I am the boss of me. I don’t even need complete sentences. This is my life and my direction that’s sustainable and holistic, pleasant, truthful, base, honest, simple, pure, selfless, beautifying, gentrifying, growthful, positively pushing, transcendent, joining, healing, replenishing, uplifting, enlightening, entertaining, free… these are just words but what the hell, why not live your ideals? I’ll take a vow of the bodhisattva.

Whatever I can do to push mankind, even very slightly, toward a more useful trajectory, I will do that. I want to add to this world that nourishes me. I am not a ‘consumer’. I do more than that. I have more uses in this world than that.

I can think for myself and I trust those who do not agree with me. That is, if they’re not trying to change my life. I trust those who want my money, that is, if they have no power over me. I trust those who live by a different purpose than I, that is, as long as no coercion comes from them.

Government has a stronger arm to push down with than I do. I can’t subscribe to this slavery. I don’t believe in this.

I can break dance when the spirit moves me.

“Somewhere Inflatable? Part 2” Goldfield Journal #17

Radical ANYthing is good, and I’m thinking of radical non-possession. This art is not mine or his or yours. I’ve stolen everything I’ve ever done. It’s not mine.

We give it away, bloggers & graffiti artists. I’m inspired by tagging. Give something remarkable. Vandals will be a part whether I like it or not so why not like it? I just hope they’re a good artist.

In LA one time, I came across this place with a huge inflated plastic sculpture. I stopped by to inquire about fishbowling from inside of it.. woulda’ been nice.. somewhere inflatable.. I gotta’ call them..

I’m seeing in Red Yellow & Blue right now. I just came from the spray can and I’ve got spraypainter eyes on right now. I love when it tries to cross between arts or cross between senses. I’m seeing the world as a sprayed painting. Synesthesia of some kind: circle is red. I’ve been doing some drawing to excavate these renderings  from my head.

I’ve worked hard to make this my life, this mixing of colors, etc. Synesthesia. This shit has to matter to somebody and we are that somebody; people like us, reading this shit.

Do you look at your life and ask “does this really matter?” Well, that’s everybody. Everyone does that. Does it really matter that I’m doing this and not that? Who cares about it? Who’s my audience?

Who am I hurting by doing this? Who benefits from what I do? What am I destroying by working this angle?

What is Synesthesia?

Painting junk cars in the middle of the desert sits pretty well with me. And then I write about it. To write about what I’m seeing is one thing, maybe not the best fit, but to write about what I feel: that’s divine. We’re certainly hurting no one and we definitely know that what we’re doing doesn’t matter. We’re changing nothing but maybe that’s it, that’s the Holy Grail, to change nothing. To disturb nothing? That’s not easy to do. We have motivations that tell us we should be doing something.

A Buddhist saying goes like this: Don’t just do something, sit there.

But people will tell us it does matter. We’re bringing joy or inspiration to the world and those words do matter to me, but really.. what does it matter? We’re not insinuating ourselves into people’s daily lives, much, and we’re not changing anything beyond anyone else’s control. There’s no coercion in what we’re doing, but Goldfield will never be the same.

We’re burying cars in the ground and painting them. It’s a monument. Maybe it matters, not at all. I don’t care. There-I’m radical. Maybe I’ll get some sleep now.

“Somewhere Inflatable?” Goldfield Journal #16

Collect moments. Start doing it now if you haven’t been already. It’s easy for an artist to look back at himself from a certain time period. He’s left his record. It’s all right there in the paint dabs, pixels, syllables, video snippets. They’re mementos; past lives, past loves, future wishes.

My home is a rusty trailer with wood paneling and a wood stove. I have a battery boom box, a couple space heaters and I have this lazy boy. My patron saint is a gun crazy old man.

Fishbowling…… It’s a way of life that I’ve been exploring for 5 years. I stay in a new location and see how it affects my artwork. How do my surroundings mark my vision? It’s a kind of experiment on myself. Maybe art always is that. Sometimes this life is very social, some times it’s not.

Maybe I’ve always been a kind of wandering artist-I don’t even know why I said maybe. I’ve always felt well suited in that way because I could live anywhere. My art is the same; it’s all over the place. It can come from anywhere. Somewhere inflatable?

I’ve found myself existing in unusual environments, but then, what’s unusual? Haven’t you ever had a business or job you were devoted to? You basically lived there? Remember how much your life changed since the last place you lived? Has it?

There’s a big chain around the neck of a visual artist’s production and that chain is location. Real estate. We gotta have the right space to use our tools. Well that’s just it isn’t it? We create from our environment. I have found myself with no job and a perfect place to live on multiple occasions. Correction to last sentence: I have a job. My job is to reflect on my surroundings and accommodate my host somehow.

Waking up in a furniture store window is a real treat. Sunset Blvd. Buses would stop in front of my window every 15 minutes with that kind of quiet swishing stop. So quiet for so many people to be inside. They got out in front of my window, all day.

Drinking from the kegs of Pabst at 4am in a coffee shop/bar, long since closed for the night, that’s fun. I sang ‘nothin’s gonna change my world.’ Bar owner played recorded videos in front of the customers the next day. Living with a camera on myself at all times in a huge corporate office space?, midnight strip show with the lights off, waking to angry boyfriend messages the next day “I saw that video..”, sex in my cardboard box in the middle of an empty gallery? (No video). Something about living behind glass makes girls want to take your/their clothes off.

These are experiences to reflect upon.

But it’s the online connection that has nestled to the top during these stays. The non-physical. I read my crowd. It’s online that my world is conveyed. Where ever I’m at is home and this is the spot where I do my business and my personalizing-wherever I am.

So it’s something about  being everywhere and nowhere. I may have moved to the desert and talk to an average of  3 people per week, but my continued exercise is in connecting further out than my physical locality, and besides, I do get visitors.

We lead unique lives.

“Sunset, Posing At The Box Truck” Goldfield Journal #12

Once the Vietnam era loudspeaker wails from town I know that’s it’s time for me to get painting cars. It’s 5 o’clock then, but their clock is a few minutes early. I’ve noticed and people on Facebook have noticed.

Ghost thoughts of miners swish through my brain every time I hear that wail. These souls lived and worked here and it’s all the same; we inch toward our goals every day. I’m here to make art famous on cars. This will take time. I’m glad they give me the time every day. I wonder who’s in charge of that.

Today’s Saturday, I just noticed it goes off at noon instead of 8. I’ll have to pay attention today at 5. I live in a house trailer right beside Michael Mark’s house; the car forest is half a mile away. I’m sitting on the porch in the shade sipping coffee and having a smoke and editing an entry from the other night…

Out here it’s pitch black, other than the laptop screen in front of me. If it was my beloved little Mac, my keys would be lit up and the typing of semicolons and digits would be easier. I’m not that confident stretching my fingers out that far to these keys. It’s a little awkward typing from the driver seat of this Suburban; I have to shift to the side.

To have a change of perspective, I’ve been sipping cheap chianti from a huge bottle. I’m listening to this guitar and mandolin duet, the tune of which I recognize; It’s Beethoven or Bach. It’s a rondo kinda’ thing ‘cause now it’s the other one. I think  Beethoven and then Back, yeah. Enjoying these banjo players from little speakers in this truck, I keep glancing up at the box truck in front of me; I just spray painted the beginnings of a sunset mural on it.

Now on the radio is “Our house, it’s a very very very fine house..”

Then it’s “I read the news today ohhhh boyyyy…”

“A crowd of people stood & stared”.. “The English Army had just won the war..” Anyway, I was thinking tonight, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Am I Nowhere Man?

I don’t know how to reel in this journal entry. I hope it doesn’t matter to you.

Michael Mark was up here earlier, like 2 hours ago. He planted that Plymouthstation wagon I told you about last night. See Goldfield Journal Entry #11 to read up on it. We didn’t talk. It’s like 500 yards from here. I can estimate that because I played football one year in high school. I didn’t quit-I always like to point that out.

Now it’s all Tony Curtis on the radio. Holy shit; I’ve got flat black spray paint running down my fingers while I try to type this, coated in dust and enamel residue, while listening to this crooner crooning “I left my heart in San Fransisco..”

I wanted to share some thoughts about painting. It’s something I always want to do but it seems like everything I ever read regarding such, sucks, as a story, so instead, I’ll just ramble like this.

Yeah, it’s like this: I come out here a couple hours before sunset and watch the lighting change dramatically on these paintings and then it’s like the clock has run out. The sun says “Sorg, you gotta’ stop painting now-no choice”.

So I quit. Now I’ll sit here and relish in what I’ve done tonight.

I sprayed a lightning symbol with an arrow in the mural. Look on your camera; this stands for “use the flash now”. The side of this truck is backed up against the West and my estimation is that most people that make it to this end of the car forest will be here after 12 noon. They need to use the flash because the sun will be behind them posing at the box truck.

“Sunset, Posing At The Box Truck” Goldfield Journal #12

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